


For You (I Will)

by orphan_account



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, in which i'm in denial about jemma wanting to go back, post 3x03, written before 3x04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 09:05:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5042302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr prompt: "I had this headcannon moment that Fitz makes Jemma adjustable noise cancelling headphones so she can get back in the lab & she can adjust how many distractions there are" </p><p>If Jemma doesn't tell Fitz, Bobbi will. It would be a whole lot easier to tell him that she needs to go back if he would stop being so damn sweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For You (I Will)

Jemma wakes up the morning after her breakdown with dread in the pit of her stomach. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling these days (in fact, she’s pretty sure she can’t remember the last time she didn’t feel that way as her eyes blinked open). But somehow this is worse. After Bobbi caught her trying to piece the portal back together, the blonde had insisted that Jemma tell Fitz her intentions to return to the other planet. Her reluctance to tell Bobbi exactly why she needed to go back had only solidified the other woman’s resolve. 

“If you don’t tell him, I will,” Bobbi had practically hissed. “After everything he went through to get you back, he deserves to know.”

Then she’d stormed off toward her bunk, leaving Jemma dizzy and overwhelmed in the empty, quiet lab. 

She’s not sure how long Bobbi is going to give her before she blurts it out to him herself, so she grits her teeth and gets ready quickly, hoping to catch him before Fitz’s new partner does. 

Her fingers reach for a t-shirt and then still as they brush against familiar chiffon blouses. She swallows, hard, and grasps onto a black, silky top, printed with light pink flowers. Maybe it’ll make him happy to see her looking better. Maybe he’ll be less angry when she tells him. 

She strips herself of her pajamas and slips into some black jeans and the blouse before tugging on some black boots and running a brush quickly through her hair. Her gaze lingers on the makeup which sits on her dresser, but she decides she’s not feeling quite like dealing with all of that yet. 

Jemma makes her way to the kitchen, unsurprised to find Fitz already there, buttering toast and shooting her a bashful and slightly guilty smile. She knows her must feel awful about her reaction to their outing last night. Date? Was it a date? 

The question swirls in her mind and she quickly quashes it. It’s not important right now, and if she’s honest with herself, she knows it’s not important to Fitz right now either. Without thinking about it, she silently reaches a hand out toward him and he moves easily toward her, slipping his palm into hers like he has been all week. 

“I’m glad you’re up,” he says. “I woke up early this morning, couldn’t fall back asleep, and I thought of something that might help. After breakfast I’ve got something for you.” 

She raises her eyebrows at him. “You made breakfast?” 

His face crinkles adorably. “Well, it’s just toast.” 

She cracks a smile at that and the tension drains from his shoulders. “Thanks, Fitz.” 

They sit next to each other at the breakfast bar, and she contemplates not releasing his hand but the decides that eating would be too difficult one-handed. When they’re finished, he pours them each a mug of tea and fastens his hand to hers as they walk toward the lab. 

They pause in the doorway, and her eyes meet Bobbi’s. Bobbi doesn’t look quite as harsh as she had last night, and she gives her a small, apologetic smile. For a minute, Jemma lets herself believe that this means that Bobbi isn’t going to divulge her secret. The heavy look Bobbi gives her immediately after the smile tells her otherwise, though, and she freezes. 

Fitz immediately notices her reluctance to enter the lab and turns to her with a furrowed brow. 

“Are you okay?” 

His concern for her feels like a heavy weight on her heart and she grits her teeth against it, forcing her tongue to form words. 

“I need to talk to you.” 

This does nothing to wipe the worry from his face. If anything, it only intensifies as his lips part and his tongue darts out to wet them nervously. She’s temporarily distracted by this action. 

“Jemma?” 

She shakes herself and glances nervously toward the lab. “Not here.” 

“Just let me—really fast,” Fitz stutters, giving her hand a quick squeeze and then grabbing a black pouch off of a nearby countertop. He tucks it under his arm, takes her hand once more, and follows her back to her bunk. She closes the door behind them and watches as he stands awkwardly in the middle of the room. 

“You can sit,” she says quietly. He sits, perched on the edge of her bed as if he needs to be ready for anything. It breaks her heart a little bit, and she notices that he has to put his tea on the nightstand as his hand begins to tremble. She decides she should probably put hers on the dresser as well. 

She takes a step in an attempt to get rid of her nervous energy, but this only makes the untethered feeling in her limbs grow worse, so she sinks down onto the mattress a foot away from him. He turns to her, leg bouncing, and grasps at her hand. 

“You’re making me nervous,” he admits. “What’s going on?” 

She lets out a squeaky breath, shutting her eyes and shaking her head for a moment. 

“Hey, maybe—maybe my thing will help. With what’s uh, with whatever’s bothering you.” 

She feels him shift, and when she opens her eyes, he’s fumbling with the strings on the pouch. He reaches his hand inside and pulls out a large pair of dark grey headphones. 

“I know the lab is full of distractions,” Fitz explains, using his free hand to scratch behind his ear in a familiar gesture. “So uh, I made you these. They’re noise-cancelling but they’re—they’re custom. So you can adjust them.” 

He indicates a little knob one side, twisting it nervously. “This one here, it adjusts the volume of the outside world. It’s almost like turning down your music. That way you can—you can decide how much is too much. It can go totally silent, too, but I know you also don’t like too much quiet, so..” 

Her hands begin to shake as he shows her the features of his creation. 

“This one here,” he says, pointing at a small button. “This one will link you up to this.” 

He lifts his wrist, showing a metal band wrapped around it. It looks almost like the device that Coulson had tagged Skye with a lifetime ago. Fitz’s face turns red and his eyes drift to the comforter. 

“I know you had said—you said that first night that my heartbeat helped. So um, you can listen to it. Right there. And when I eventually have to go back into the field—“ 

She suddenly can’t hear the rest of his sentence, thinking of him back in the field. She knows it’s unhealthy, her inability to function if she doesn’t know where he is and what he’s doing, but between their separation last year and then their forced separation across the universes, she needs to know. She has to be connected to him at all times. 

“Jemma?” 

His hand tightens on her arm and she snaps her eyes open to look at him. 

“Sorry,” she smiles weakly. “They’re brilliant, Fitz. Really. I can’t believe you did all this just this morning.” 

He grins at her, pleased with her praise. “Ah, it’s not a big deal.” 

“Don’t want me to fuss?” she asks, teasing smile tugging on her lips. It’s been difficult, to sift through the panic to reach down inside of herself and dig out her personality. It’s easier when she’s with Fitz, or with Skye. Right, not Skye. Daisy. 

He smiles and shows her a few more features of his latest gadget before he seems to realize why they’ve holed up in her room to begin with. 

“So, yeah, that’s my thing.” 

He freezes. 

“My device. You know what I mean.” 

Jemma laughs slightly and lets her hand drift to his leg to ground her as the panic surges up once more. 

She should tell him. She knows, logically, that she has to, or Bobbi is going to, and she knows it should be her to say it. Bobbi is right; he deserves it. She still doesn’t know even half of what he did to get her back on Earth, and she’s not sure that she wants to. The thought of him endangering himself, for her, makes her entire body feel uncomfortably hot and not in the kind of way she wants to feel when she thinks about Fitz. 

She opens her mouth to tell him everything, all of it; why she needs to go back, beg him to help her put the portal back together, when her eyes meet his again and her mind goes blank. 

Fitz looks at her with such heartwrenching sincerity, a combination or adoration, concern, and trust written all across his face, that she can’t bring herself to do it. 

She still feels like she needs to go back, but she also thinks that maybe it can wait. 

“I just—I wanted to say that I had a good time last night,” Jemma tells him. His hand lands on top of her own and he beams. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” she smiles back. “Even with all the crying and carrying on…it was lovely. Just what I needed.” 

“Good,” Fitz nods. “Good, cause, uh, I just—I just want to be here for you, Jemma.” 

She leans forward on an impulse, pressing her lips to his cheek, right next to his lips. Her courage isn’t quite there yet. She’s not sure if she’s ready, or honestly, if he is. He gets the message though, and she knows it when he pulls back to look at her with glassy eyes. 

Jemma reaches for the headphones sitting beside her and tugs them on, adjusting them to the right fit. 

“Show me how to work these again?” 

Fitz rolls his eyes good naturedly. “I knew you weren’t paying attention, Simmons. Alright, this knob here…” 

Later that evening, when Fitz is dozing on the couch in the common room and her head is nestled in his lap, Bobbi appears in the doorway. 

“You didn’t tell him,” Bobbi says flatly. 

Jemma almost shakes her head, but then realizes the motion might wake Fitz from his slumber. He’s never been an early riser, and getting up at the crack of dawn to design her little device took it out of him. 

“No,” Jemma responds softly, hand coming up to grip onto Fitz’s thigh. “But I’ve reconsidered.” 

A slow smile stretches over Bobbi’s lips. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Jemma breathes, tracing a pattern onto his leg. “I think I’ll have a proper talk with Dr. Garner first.” 

Bobbi’s eyes sparkle with something she can’t quite identify. “I’m proud of you, Simmons.” 

Jemma simply hums in response, shutting her eyes and soaking in Fitz’s warmth. 

She’s still not sure that she won’t go back, eventually. She still feels a tug pulling her back to that horrible blue planet. 

But whatever happens, she won’t do it without him.


End file.
